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I would have missed the wisteria,vining purple proof of the mystical,but Mary said to pay attention.

I saw the cherry blossoms, the henbit,the ground gone violet. I pictured her,bare feet on a carpet of soft moss:

My work is loving the world.Where she saw dogfish, I saw the hooksin their shark smiles, the rings of plastic

that will outlive us all. I confess that I searchedfor the easier world. Still, I kept my eyeson the trees. How many seasons did I fail

to look? To smell the phlox, sweet likehoneysuckle? The red-tailed hawk was hereeven in my oblivion, and each spring,

the baby geese. Look at them, howthey cannot answer for this world.How they do not care to try.

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